Cities in the Sky • Fan Fiction

Alternative Ending 1, Part 1| Part 1: Part 53: Who We Are And Who We Want To Be

(From the original book)

The White Guard fell in around Conners, forming a perimeter. My guards left me on the ground to join him. He took the briefcase in his right hand and began marching towards the waiting quadricopter.

I stared at Hannah. She looked shell-shocked; she stared back at me, shaking her head.

I struggled to get to my feet; the pain was still intense, but the bullet hadn't seemed to destroy anything important other than the bones in my shoulder. I stared at Conners, surrounded by guards, marching towards the quadricopter. That pilot would drop the bomb on the Moscow Cluster.

Conners handed the briefcase to the pilot. The pilot saluted Connors, who saluted back, and then turned around to run towards the quadricopter.

But he never made it.

(My writing)

The shot seemed to have come from nowhere. A bullet whizzed through the air and right through the pilot's skull. He fell to the ground, his blood staining the grey ash that covered everything.

The White Guards all crouched by whatever they could, guns raised, scanning the hilltops and rooftops, searching for the source.

They all stopped on one point, and I turned to look.

There wasn't just one person sniping. There were hundreds of people.

They were surrounding us. Chicagoans, Londoners, some people I couldn't make out. They stood, armed. Men, women and children alike. They all aimed at Connors and the rest of the White Guard. There were White Guard with them, too. Defects. One small change to their uniforms was made, a symbol of rebellion: Five red stars for the City of Chicago, or a Union Jack for London, and crude flags of other cities and countries.

Connors nearly screamed the command for his men to open fire. The number of bullets that the White Guard fired would've made a machine gun jealous. They all dropped, dead. Some falling from the buildings. Then there was an entirely new layer. Their numbers seemed to have doubled.

More bullets rained from the rooftops. And then quadricopters and airplanes zoomed over the horizon, unleashing their firepower on the White Guard and their humvees, tanks, and quadricopters.

The White Guard were dropping like flies, red dots appearing on their heads and chests, almost coating their perfect white armor in red. From the alleys and streets, dirty, downtrodden rebels began to fill the area. They tipped hummers over and used rubble from the buildings.

In the midst of the battle, I noticed something. Connors, running, briefcase in hand.

The rebels had seen and begun firing at him. A round hit him in the ankle and he yelled in pain. Despite this he kept heading for the quadricopter, determined.

That nuke was getting to Moscow, one way or another.

My shoulder was shattered, but my legs weren't. I ran after him. Bullets ricocheted around me; one flew by seemingly right in front of me, daring me to keep chasing.

I sharply turned out of the path of a fleeing White Guard humvee that was attempting to get out of this hell-hole. It promptly exploded.

'Jesus Christ' I thought to myself. 'They are using rocket launchers now!?'

I could see Connors just as I turned around a humvee. Five steps away. Four. Three. Then he was climbing into the quadricopter.

I threw myself onto him in some form of tackle. I tried to grab for his ankle but he slammed his other foot into my head. In my yelp of pain I fell off and my bad shoulder slammed into the ground. Darkness surrounded my vision. I reached up and dug into his ankle with my thumb. He screamed and the next thing I knew his other foot had made contact with my face. I could feel warm blood on my mouth coming from my nose; broke.

I forgot: I still had my taser. I had no choice but to use my bad arm and grab it from my side. The guards forgot to pat me down.

I made contact with his ankle and pulled the trigger.